


Tales from the Fódlan Woods

by GlacialUmbra, joking_motive, Kuzuriolu



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Comedy, F/F, F/M, Female My Unit | Byleth, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route Spoilers, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route Spoilers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Monsters, Multi, Mythical Beings & Creatures, One Shot Collection, Various Genres
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-06 22:21:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20514434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlacialUmbra/pseuds/GlacialUmbra, https://archiveofourown.org/users/joking_motive/pseuds/joking_motive, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuzuriolu/pseuds/Kuzuriolu
Summary: In another realm lies the Fódlan Woods, a world full of mythical creatures banished from the realm of humans. These are the stories of its inhabitants. A series of interconnected oneshots centered around a Fairytale AU with various characters and pairings.Contains a few various spoilers.Latest Chapter: Caspar is getting a bit fed up with Linhardt eating all his dreams, especially ones that involve him.  (Linhardt/Caspar)





	1. Introduction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This first chapter contains an introduction to the setting of our AU, as well as an index to list the chapters and pairings in each one so you know what you're looking for if you're only here for a specific pairing.
> 
> We will be adding pairings as we write more chapters.

** _Introduction:_ **

In the beginning, there was only Sothis. Growing tired of her lonely existence, the Goddess bore children unto the world. Creatures of all shapes and sizes grew to flourish under her watchful eye and all was good. The Goddess’s most directly-related children enforced a fair rule across the lands, for human and beast alike, allowing for the careful cultivation of knowledge, society, and prosperity.

However, Sothis and her children would quickly learn a lesson not soon to be forgotten: there would always be those who slithered in the dark, those who lusted after their heavenly powers. Sothis and her children would be wary of these foes in the future, but as they remained ignorant of what boiled just underneath, certain groups were gaining followers upon followers. They had manipulated a human man, who was truthfully no more than a petty thief, to murder the Goddess asleep in her chair, then used her blood and remains for more dubious matters.

This challenge of authority was met with Seiros’s rage and retaliation, and what had begun as an assassination attempt had become a full-scale war. The primarily monster-led regions of Adrestia, Faerghus, and the Leicester Alliance aided Seiros, with humans taking the side of those who slithered in the dark, envious and afraid of the power granted to the beasts.

Despite their gifts, it was Seiros’s side that found themselves losing the war; Adrestia, Faerghus, and the Leicester Alliance had never worked this closely together before, and their leaders were said to be bickering at every turn. Fearing bloodshed and growing tired of battle, Seiros conceded, and the humans were victorious. She and her siblings exiled themselves to the Fódlan Woods, a secluded area huge in scale that had been burned to cinders during the war, and sealed the forest with a magic barrier, maintained by the Crest Stones-- the hearts of their fallen kin who had been lost, scattering a few across the lands in case any lost beasts still needed to find a way home.

And with that, the war faded into history. Modern day scholars merely attribute Sothis, Seiros, and the beasts to be another part of ancient mythology created by their ancestors to explain events in the past. Objects theorized to be the Crest Stones of legend have popped up across the globe, but there is still much debate as to where the “Fódlan Woods” were. Civilizations like the Adrestian Empire, the Kingdom of Faerghus, the Leceister Alliance, Duscar, Almyra, Dagda, and Brigid seem to have vanished off the face of the Earth, though certain artifacts and symbols thought to be wielded by knights or kings have turned up in areas similar to the ones described in old texts.

As time has gone on, the belief that these civilizations existed, that the Fódlan Woods themselves even exist has dwindled substantially, but there are still a few who believe that somewhere, in a remote forest, there exists life that humans have only thought to be tall tales still thriving.

Now, a thousand years later, a new story begins.

* * *

_ **Index:** _

Chapter One: Lost Flames (Edelgard/F!Byleth)

Chapter Two: A Golden Sunset (Claude & Hilda)

Chapter Three: Morning Blues (Dimitri & Dedue [can be read as Dimitri/Dedue])

Chapter Four: In Your Embrace (Petra/Dorothea)

Chapter Five: Matters of Ink and Parchment (And the Heart) (Lysithea/Cyril)

Chapter Six: Blissfully Unaware (Linhardt/Caspar)


	2. Lost Flames

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edelgard/Female!Byleth. Some light angst and fluff, plenty of pining.

**** _ Imperial Year 1185, Red Wolf Moon _

On the southern side of the Fódlan Woods lay the ancient Adrestian Empire, rebuilt from the ground up upon land that used to contain nothing but beast infected woods. For over a thousand years, Adrestia had been ruled and governed by an ancient dynasty, consisting of an olden family said to have been descendants of the divine Seiros herself. Though a majority of the land was encased in nothing but endless trees that seemed to touch the sky itself, the Capital of the Empire, Enbarr, stuck out like a sore thumb, with castles and extravagant architecture rivaling the dreary look of the endless woods.

In Imperial Year 1180, a young woman by the name of Edelgard von Hresvelg claimed the throne of the Adrestian Empire and was heralded as the new emperor. In times of such peace between all three of the nations that had sprouted from the desolate land, she often found herself with little to do other than linger in the halls of her castle and look down upon the world beneath her. The castle she chose to reside in most of the time lay outside Enbarr, overlooking a creek that trickled north. She found such to be far more relaxing than the cramped up Imperial castle at the heart of Enbarr, surrounded by far too many knights and nobles for her liking. On lazy days, the emperor spent most of her time upon the balcony, with her elbows rested upon the white stone railing and the tail she tried so often to hide swishing back and forth idly. 

It was one such day. The emperor was watching the sun sink beneath the trees, painting the sky a deep orange. The glare of the sun shone upon coal colored wings that once were set afire by hot, red embers, but were now extinguished into nothing but the color of ash. Once, she had been a noble phoenix—a child with light brown hair and wings that burned like the sun, surrounded by loving siblings. But now, she was only a fraction of that. Her siblings had been reduced to nothing but ash that had been scattered across the Fódlan winds so that they could no longer rise. As for herself…

“Your Majesty,” an all too familiar voice interrupted her thoughts. A cloaked figure that remained shrouded in the shadows approached, though stopped at the door. 

“Hubert,” Edelgard addressed without turning around. Her vampire servant had been a constant presence by her side for many years now, so it was only natural she recognized his voice and even the sound of his light footsteps. 

“I am here to discuss a rather… troubling matter with you.”

The emperor turned from the sun and towards the shadows, blinking at her servant. She knew that the rays of daylight were painful on his pale skin, so she opted to step away from the balcony. Edelgard closed the door and drew the curtains over the glass that allowed sunlight to sink through. The entire hallway sunk into darkness, illuminated only by a faint candlelight that did little to quell the shadows. “Now then. What must you tell me?” she inquired. Times of peace had brought very little to her attention, and whenever Hubert had to discuss so-called important matters with her, it had mostly to do with troubling nobles such as Ferdinand causing themselves ridicule. 

“It is in regards to your… friend,” the sinister vampire began. “Byleth.”

Byleth. She was a wandering mercenary who had met Edelgard’s acquaintance back in Imperial Year 1175, when she and the other leaders of the Fódlan Woods were attacked by a handful of troublemaking thieves looking to line their pockets with gold. Byleth had slashed down the bandits where they had stood with masterful swings of her sword and even had thrown herself in front of a rampaging man with a silver axe who had been aiming for Edelgard’s heart. Ever since then, the two of them had become fast friends. Despite wishing for Byleth to enlist herself in service of the Empire, the mercenary chose to stick to the life of wandering, though she did offer a hand in instructing her and a few other nobles in self defense tactics. Every so often for a few days at a time, Byleth would return to the Empire to spend time with Edelgard with stories of the Kingdom and Alliance to share. Having her over was always a great delight, and the emperor had even given her one of the rooms to keep as her own whenever she chose to dwell in Empire territory. Byleth’s presence was extremely comforting to the young woman, who often took time out of her day to simply relax alongside her.

“What about her?” pressed Edelgard further. Hubert had always been cautious of the young woman, so it wasn’t too much of a surprise to hear that his troubles concerned her. Indeed, it wasn’t as though there were no basis for his suspicions. The young woman had always been mysterious in numerous ways. 

“Recently, a few guards have spotted her sneaking from the castle late at night, a large box in hand,” Hubert reported. “The contents of which are unknown. It has also been reported that she does not return well after midnight. Mysterious indeed.”

Edelgard cocked her head to the side as she pondered this new information. “A box?” she repeated, attempting to imagine what sort of objects Byleth would be carrying on her person. “Perhaps she is… a nocturnal creature,” the emperor suggested. 

“While that very well may be, there is far too many suspicious things about her for me to let this merely slide,” Hubert retaliated calmly. “Lest you forget, we have known her all of five years and we still have no idea what species she is.”

That much was true. Upon meeting Byleth, she confessed that she hadn’t known her own species, only that she was certainly not human. In five years time, that had not changed. Though her father, the legendary Jeralt the Blade Breaker, was human, Byleth was something entirely different. There were no hints to what she could possibly be, other than the ever still nature of her heart. Despite having a pulse, the woman possessed no heartbeat. Such caused some to label her as an undead creature, but Edelgard knew better than that. When the two held hands, sitting close to one another so that their shoulders would touch, she would feel radiant warmth within the other woman that could only be of a living creature. 

“I’m… certain it’s nothing to be concerned about,” Edelgard replied hesitantly. She did not wish to doubt the woman who had become her closest ally over the last five years. “The Fódlan Woods has been at peace for years. Even though she travels between the Kingdom and Alliance quite often, I cannot think of her as a spy.”

Hubert shook his head. “Must I remind you of the wretched people who turned you into the creature you are today?” he continued onwards. “They still slither within the darkness, lurking about, waiting for their chance to strike…”

The tip of Edelgard’s lion tail twitched. “I haven’t forgotten, Hubert. Their atrocities linger upon my mind every night when I try to rest,” she quavered out. The scars of their doing still tore themselves into her body, a forever reminder of the creature she had become as a result of their vile experiments. Once, she was a phoenix whose glistening, dancing flames struck awe into all those around. Now, she was a griffin, a hybrid of eagle and lion, with the fires upon her wings permanently extinguished. “However, Byleth isn’t working for them… I know this for a fact. Such a thing is _ impossible.” _

Despite the brave mask that was eternally etched upon the emperor’s face, there was ever shatters upon her facade when matters involving her former instructor were involved. The depths of her feelings for Byleth were of no secret to Hubert, who had long ago suspected the feelings she heralded for the other woman. He chuckled lowly at the protests of his liege and merely shook his head once more. “Regardless, matters such as this require investigation. Tonight, I plan to follow her and discover just where she’s heading… and of course, whatever that box may contain. She has consistently left the castle after ten o’clock every single night since she arrived without fail. I should suspect tonight is no different.”

“I’ll go,” Edelgard decided. 

“Your Majesty, it would be unwise to—”

“—I’m still going, Hubert,” the emperor interrupted. “Stay at the castle tonight. I’ll bring my weapon, just in case it should be needed. Stay here and concern yourself with other matters. I’m sure Ferdinand wishes to talk with you about something or another.”

Hubert sighed, knowing that attempting to budge his liege on the matter was nigh impossible. All that was left to do was simply relent. “Very well then. Simply avoid getting yourself in trouble, your Majesty.” With that, the vampire once again retreated into the depths of the hallways, his figure seemingly vanishing into the darkness.

* * *

That night, Edelgard lingered within the shadows of the castle exterior, awaiting the moment her former instructor would sneak out with a box in hand. She shivered slightly as crisp autumn air struck her skin and blew through the charcoal-colored feathers upon her wings. The griffin pulled her radiant red cape over her back and enveloped her wings in a layer of heavy cotton. Adrestia had the pleasure of being the warmest of the three nations in the Fódlan Woods, but that did not mean the Red Wolf Moon provided much respite from the oncoming winter weather. She had naught to do other than simply wait, so the emperor took her time to relax against castle walls as her mind drifted to more peaceful memories of Byleth. A shame she had not taken her up on her offer to become a loyal warrior of the Empire, for she often found herself craving conversation with the mercenary whenever she was far from sight. Though some may have found the lack of expression upon the strange woman’s face unnerving, Edelgard took great comfort in her presence. Besides, upon the rare occasion she got Byleth to smile, sparks would light up within her heart. There was little to nothing that could compare to the beauty of her smile.

Edelgard was so lost in the depths of her imagination that she nearly missed as the said mercenary passed by her, black cape flowing in the wind and arms clutched around a wooden box tightly sealed shut. She waited until the woman was nearly out of sight to follow her. 

Byleth lead Edelgard into the depths of the Fódlan Woods lit only by moonlight filtered through trees leaves high above. They went through thickets, vines and plenty of thorny bushes that nearly embedded themselves in Edelgard’s uncovered lion feet. On the other hand, the lack of footwear provided an extra layer of stealth, for the paws of a lion were padded to prevent prey from hearing their footsteps. Songs of crickets resounded throughout the otherwise silent woods, devoid of demonic beasts that once inhabited it. The guards did an excellent job of keeping the untamed creatures at bay, as they rarely were sighted on Adrestian territory. No danger presented itself before the emperor, though her trusty axe swung from her side should she need it. 

Eventually, the two came to a calm river within the forest. The water was perfectly clear and reflected in it the moon in all of its full glory, unhindered by the trees that normally blocked the view. Byleth hopped upon a rock and placed the box steadily next to her. Her hands drifted towards a tree that had been ripped open by a creature of a long ago past, pulling out something thin and long…

Edelgard’s eyes widened. Could it be? ...A sword? The griffin braced herself for the possible revelation that Hubert’s worries were not baseless. Her sharpened teeth clenched together, her hand lingering upon the axe at her side…

...Byleth sat down upon the rocks and flipped open the box, revealing plenty of still wriggling worms amongst other strange bugs. She removed one from the container and closed it once more. Adjusting the slim object, which Edelgard now recognized as a fishing rod, the mercenary expertly hooked the bait to the end. 

Ah. Edelgard relaxed. Byleth was just here… to fish.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be such a diligent fisher,” Edelgard commented as she unveiled herself from the bushes. “I had always known you had a hobby of fishing, but to sneak out in the dead of the night…”

Byleth jolted ever so slightly, clearly not having sensed the presence of the griffin. She turned her head around to look at the emperor, now hopping over to sit at her side upon the damp rock. “Edelgard,” she addressed. “I wasn’t expecting to have company tonight.”

Edelgard shook her head as she rested by her side, watching the river’s gentle flow. “Hubert told me you were sneaking out at night. He wanted me to make sure you weren’t intending on doing anything that would put me in harm’s way.” She coughed and cleared her throat. “Your Majesty, your safety is of _ utmost _ concern! Clearly Byleth wandering around at night shall lead to your demise,” she mocked, attempting her best impression of the ever loyal vampire. A faint blush graced her features as her tail swished from side to side out of embarrassment. “I… certainly hope that sounded like him,” she added.

“It sounded just like him,” Byleth reassured her flatly, her lips quirking upwards into a slight smile. Her eyes remained concentrated on the water in front of her as she cast her rod with a mighty swing. The lure bopped up and down in the water, shifting ever so slightly with the gentle current. 

Edelgard’s eyes found themselves trained upon the lure like a cat drawn to a mouse. “So, any reason why you’ve come out here to fish at this time?” she had to ask. As far as she knew, there weren’t any special benefits to fishing at night, though the griffin knew little to nothing about the hobby to begin with. 

“Oh. That,” Byleth began. “There is an ancient legend about a fish in an Empire river that can only be caught at night. I have no idea how accurate it is, but I was requested to give it a try from a girl who lives at the Garegg Mach church.”

An ancient fish? Edelgard had never heard of such legends, but she supposed that was to be expected of a woman who didn’t indulge herself much in research regarding fish, of all things. “What a curious story,” she remarked with a small laugh. “I suppose there _ are _ stranger things in the Fódlan Woods. Like you, for instance.” Though a remarkable number of creatures lurked within the depths of the forests, none had sparked Edelgard’s curiosity quite like Byleth. Vampires, werewolves, undead, elves, angels, demons… all of them could be found within, and yet, compared to a single mysterious mercenary with an unbeating heart, they all were hardly as interesting. “Five years, and you’ve just managed to get stranger and stranger.”

“To myself as well,” Byleth added on. The lure remained still. “When I next see my father, I will have a lot to ask him.”

Indeed, these days, Jeralt and Byleth were traveling separately. The two of them met upon occasion, but not often enough to satisfy the young mercenary’s curiosity. The man certainly was holding plenty of secrets he seemed unwilling to spill. “Indeed,” Edelgard agreed.

Conversation between the two women died down. Edelgard wasn’t certain of what next to say, so she simply opted to lock her eyes upon the lure floating on the water’s surface. It was getting awfully cold as the night grew longer. The griffin hugged her red overcoat closer to her form and curled her tail within. In public, she was not a fan of having lingering eyes upon the mutation that had grown as a result of those who slither's experiments. However, around Byleth, she simply let all her inhibitions flow free. The woman already knew of her troubled past and was kind enough not to make remarks upon her changed features. She let slip a low sigh as the night continued onwards. 

A flicker within the water led to Byleth tugging upon her fishing rod. The lure shifted back and forth violently, indicating a fish on the other end. A heated game of tug o war between the two ensued, but in the end, the skilled fisherwoman and mercenary proved victorious over the fish. With a final tug, the fish was forced upon land and flopped helplessly between the two women. Byleth retrieved the dagger that rested upon her hip and made a firm cut into the top of its head, killing it instantly. It ceased its movements and lay flat upon the rock. 

“A bullhead,” Byleth observed. “It’s not what I’m looking for, but it’s a rare fish all the same.”

“Well worth your time,” Edelgard decided, flashing her a small grin. “I’m impressed. I had no idea you were such a skilled fisherman.”

“My father taught me when I was little. It’s an easy way of getting food if you’re traveling. Speaking of. If only I had brought my cooking kit.” Byleth looked around, but she only had the tackle box with her. “I don’t have a way of starting a fire right now.”

A sad smile adorned Edelgard’s features. She wiggled the fingers of talon-shaped hand, playing with a whisper of an ember that she conjured briefly. “If only I could start fires as easily as I used to,” she lamented. “I used to be able to kindle plenty of fires. From my talons, my wings… it was just another thing any phoenix could do.” With the chimeric experiments she had been forced to endure, her ability to cast such magic had dwindled down to only a fragment of what it had once been. She was by all means stronger physically, but considering all that she had lost, the price for such strength was far too great. “But now’s not the time to dwindle on such things.”

Byleth’s hand outstretched itself towards Edelgard, sensing the turmoil she felt. “It’s all right,” she assured the griffin. “I don’t mind listening whenever you need to talk about such things.” She looked into the other woman’s eyes with an earnest gaze, though a less experienced eye may have called it emotionless. Edelgard had grown talented at reading the calm mercenary’s emotions, able to pick up the slightest cues from simple movements. “I’m here for you. I’ve always been.”

Edelgard almost let free a small gasp, but managed to extinguish it before it passed through her lips. It was strange how the simplest of gestures could make her heart leap so when they came from Byleth. “I know,” she breathed out in response, simply gazing at the other woman with adoration. She felt like a lovesick puppy, but how could she help it when a beautiful woman said something like that…? She bit her lip and hesitated, a breath hitching in her throat. How she wished she could allow her hidden feelings to break free from her iron mask. If she had it her way, she would drop everything and kiss the other woman firmly upon the lips. There was little to hold her back upon this night, with just the two of them at the riverside as midnight fell upon the woods. It almost felt magical, all except for the growing scent of a dead fish bleeding out between them. “But now’s not the right time. I’ll tell you all about it later.”

“Of course.” Byleth reached for the dead fish and tucked it within the tackle box for safe keeping, a temporary resting place. “Normally, I’d stay out and catch a few more fish. But I don’t want to worry Hubert.”

A small laugh escaped Edelgard’s throat. “That Hubert, always so concerned about me. I wonder how he’d feel if we stayed here all night. Just the two of us…” Just this once, she allowed her innermost thoughts to linger within the cool air. “...He’d probably order a search party,” she added. The idea sounded nice, in theory, but her all too worried servant would surely spoil it. Besides, giving him a reason to fret was never on her list of things to do. 

“How about if I offer a compromise?” Byleth spoke. “We go back to the castle together. I cook this fish and we spend tonight simply… talking. That way, Hubert knows where we are.”

An excellent solution, Edelgard thought to herself with a wry smile. “Yes, I’d like that very much,” she agreed. 

Byleth rose to her feet and grabbed her tackle box, followed by the griffin. Tentatively, she offered her free hand out towards the emperor, who stared at it a moment. She tenderly placed her talon-like hand within, running a finger down the length of her palm. Her skin was always so soft, so warm and full of life. In her stomach, a pit of fire was burning brighter than ever. Edelgard’s cheeks flushed with a hint of pink as she squeezed the other woman’s hand, allowing just this small bit of contact between them to nourish her hidden wounds. Though her scars were forever, the presence of Byleth could banish the pain if only for a few tender moments. A light tug upon her hand led her back through the thickets and towards the looming castle, where the two of them would spend the rest of their night indulging themselves in each others presence.

_ How lucky I am, to have the most beautiful woman by my side… _ Edelgard thought to herself as she sat within the kitchen, watching the mercenary toss the fish within a pan. A bit too much heat caused the pan to be set afire, forcing Byleth to scramble to put it out before it consumed their midnight snack in its entirety. _ ...Even if she isn’t the best cook. _

How lucky indeed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thanks for reading my first oneshot for this collection. I'm Kuzuriolu and I will be writing so much fucking lesbian content. I absolutely love mythical creatures and gay stuff, so I combined them into this AU with some friends of mine.
> 
> Next chapter will be written by another person and focuses on the Golden Deer. Look forward to it!


	3. A Golden Sunset

_ Imperial Year 1185, Red Wolf Moon _

“Hilda Valentine Goneril, trusted retainer!”

“Claude von Riegan, leader man!”

Claude scowled. “Please, not you too. One Judith calling me that is enough as it is. … Actually, even just her calling me that is overkill.”

Hilda giggled, walking up the stairs of the building to join him, her pink hair swishing back and forth as she walked, revealing ears that were ever-so-slightly pointed. “Still, calling me here? House von Riegan never ceases to amaze me with all your… steps.”

“I’m probably more surprised,” he put a hand on his hip. “That you actually climbed all those stairs with minimal complaints.”

“Curse my parents for not landing me a pair of wings.” Hilda sighed, plodding over to a chair. She really had completely lost the genetics lottery— lazy beyond all belief, and yet, without a pair of wings from her mixed demonic and fairy heritage, only seeming to get a few things from both. Her overall body-shape and attire choices indicated fairy to onlookers, but Claude knew well that wasn’t all to her, most specifically, her heart-shaped demon tail that she usually kept out of sight. He recalled when they were younger, she’d often try to play up these aspects of her appearance, shirking off work due to being “a  _ delicate _ fairy who wasn’t very  _ physically strong _ ”. It was that one time when they were tasked with moving materials from the storehouse to the main building that the heir of Riegan saw her true strength, probably because she hadn’t been able to talk her way out of doing this one.

“Holst has wings, doesn’t he?” He hadn’t seen Hilda’s older brother in a few years, and pretty much forgot his entire appearance. From behind her hands, the pink-haired girl groaned.

“ _ Yes _ , he  _ does _ ,” she dragged her hands down her face. “Goddess, I wish I were him sometimes. Then I see all the work he has to do, and then I’m like, ‘eh, maybe not’.”

“Glad to see you haven’t changed a bit.” Claude smiled as he walked over to the other end of the hall to retrieve a scroll. “Back to business, though.”

Claude, on the other hand of the spectrum, could not hide his species all that well. From the moment one laid eyes upon his lower body, it was obvious: the man was a centaur. On his head from under his short, brown hair jutted out two extensive antlers, adorned with jewelry, some of which from Fódlan, and the rest from, well…  _ elsewhere _ . Then there was the matter of his lower body, almost indistinguishable from a deer’s, covered in dark brown fur until it reached his fine hooves, which were well-taken care of and glossy (he’d even let Lysithea paint them from time to time, and yes, this custom had proceeded to modern day whenever she was available) despite having tread on rough terrain just a few days before. He had a slightly lighter underbelly as well, which extended all the way to under his tail. Usually that wasn’t visible though, covered by a robe or today, an adorned blanket draped over. Sure he had more body mass than the average creature, but that was no excuse to not dress himself like the leader of the Alliance.

He haphazardly tossed the scroll to Hilda, who fumbled with it a bit before finally steadying it and bringing it closer to her face. “What’s this?”

“A list of all the things going on with the Alliance and our allies. All things we discussed at the last meeting. Which you did not attend.”

“Holst was  _ sick _ .”

“He had food poisoning,” Claude sighed, shaking his head. “I’d hardly call that ‘deathly ill’, much less needing his sister to nurse him back to health. … Look, Hilda, I trust you immensely, but…”

“He wasn’t able to lead his men in doing border patrols.  _ That’s _ what I was taking over for. And I made him some really good stew.” Hilda’s eyes met his. “I know, I’m your retainer and I first and foremost respond to  _ you _ . But leaving troubles at the Almyran border for my, albeit not-deathly but still-sick brother? I have family loyalties, sure, but helping him helps the Alliance in turn.”

“... Well,” a grin crept up on the centaur’s face. “... I don’t know why I doubted you. Forgive me, then.”

“Not a problem. I know that Lorenz probably has you in over your head.” She resumed looking over the scroll. “Let’s see… meet with administrators at Garreg Mach, maintain trade with the Empire and the Kingdom… wait, establish communication with Almyran leaders?” Pink eyes met his, confused. “What’re you getting at with this?”

“Truth be told, I technically owe Almyra more than I’d like to say I owe anyone. Instead of being hostile with them for not picking up the sword to fight humans forever ago, why not, you know, set aside our differences at work together? The people at Garreg Mach aren’t big fans of what’s being done to them either.”

“I mean, sure, that’s fine, but it’s also not?” She raised a hand. “And hear me out. I’m  _ completely _ okay with like, talking to them, hearing them out, making an alliance or whatever, but how well do you think that’s gonna go over with… I dunno, Lorenz? My family? Heck, even the Almyrans themselves?”

“Oh. About that actually. I’ve got some Almyran friends in pretty high places. I think with a little prodding, your brother wouldn’t be too against the idea either. Lorenz’ll see it my way after that’s gone through. He acts like a typical, posh noble, but he’s not at all blind to reason. The less fighting between Almyra and the Alliance… no, the less fighting between  _ Fódlan _ and Almyra, the better it’s going to be for all of us in the long run. Besides, it ultimately gives Holst a break so he can focus on other things, doesn’t it?”

Hilda’s eyes widened. “You sure Holst wouldn’t object? I don’t mean to be pointing fingers in a conflict that’s been going on for centuries, but  _ they’re _ the ones who attack the border. My brother’s not provoking them or anything, so he’s got all the more reason to be angry about all this.”

“Would I be telling you if I wasn’t sure?” Claude winked at her, combing through his beard (or “the poor man’s mutton chops” as Leonie liked to call them) with his thumb. “And there’s one more card I have up my sleeve. Keep reading.” His retainer peered down, her long fingernails causing creases in the top of the scroll as she unfurled the bottom part.

“... Meeting with Byleth? … You don’t mean…”

“Almyrans like might. They’ve already been beaten back by your brother, sure, but someone like her? Her being neutral is a big help for us as well.”

“The leader of the Alliance wants  _ might _ to preach his tentative friendship to the Almyrans? He’s already got might in his pocket, might at his beck and call. Sounds to me,” Hilda’s eyes narrowed, and the edges of her lips curved upwards slightly. “Like you’re just looking for an excuse to reunite with ‘ol’ Teach’ to me.” Damn that Hilda, she could be so sharp and perceptive when she wanted to, and so completely and  _ utterly lazy _ when she didn’t.

He’d called the woman “Teach” when they’d first met, after she gave him some pointers on how to better space himself when fighting against a close-quarters adept enemy. The woman was an enigma—no one, not King Dimitri, not Emperor Edelgard, not even Claude himself could pinpoint  _ what _ the woman was, other than being the Blade Breaker’s sole kin, and a powerful roaming mercenary. She was quiet, almost too quiet; her movements were subtle and stealthy, probably due to living life as an unaffiliated citizen who traversed bandit-laden paths on the regular. Her technique with a sword was unmistakably that of a mercenary’s; the way slices were followed up by carefully-placed melee attacks to keep an enemy from being able to make an easy counterattack were basically a mercenary’s bread and butter, let alone the fact that no matter what weapon she’d picked up at the training grounds, she’d always be able to beat whoever she was sparring with. By the Goddess, that was one person on a very short list Claude would never want to cross in a real battle.

It wasn’t that just all that either. Outside of battle, she was the type of person who didn’t speak unless spoken to, but always offered a patient helping hand to those in need. Much of her free-time, Claude had noted, was spent wandering or fishing, in a stark contrast to other mercenaries he’d hired from time to time who seemed to spend all their time not spent in battle training for the next one. When once he’d asked if Jeralt was truly her father, she gave a nonchalant, non-indicative answer of “I guess so?”, like she had some reason to doubt as much, even though he could tell she had meant a simple “yes”. But the oddest thing he’d found out about her was during a training session one day, probably about five years ago now. He’d asked her for help in adjusting the angle of his shots to best hit an enemy hiding right behind a wall, but hadn’t expected she’d put her hands over his, and guide the positioning of his body. It was in that moment in the complete closeness of their bodies that he’d noticed something: her heart didn’t dare beat. It was the only thing on his mind for the rest of the session (when Byleth had asked what was wrong, he made up the excuse that he’d smacked himself with his bowstring a day prior), and the first thing that popped into his mind whenever he saw the woman when she would wander back into Alliance territory. Her keen mind for tactics, her aptitude with every single weapon she picked up, even her lack of speech…  _ those _ were things that could be excused by years raised as a mercenary with little connection to the intricacies of Fódlan’s society. Something like this could not possibly be explained with anything he knew.

“So what?” Claude laughed to himself a bit, he could get so easily entangled in the web on his own mind. “I doubt anyone here would suffer from a bit more Teach in our lives.”

“ _ Especially _ Leonie. She’s probably the best bow knight in the area. I just know she’s dying to spar with Byleth again. Marianne always talks a bit more when she’s around, too. She’s good for this place… kind of a shame she doesn’t stay too long. Or, y’know, forever.”

“She’s  _ too _ good for this place.” He nodded and sat down on his rear, keeping his front two legs standing straight. “If she was with the Alliance, no doubt the Kingdom and the Empire would start to get antsy.  _ I’d _ get antsy if Teach allied herself with either of those places myself.”

“What, afraid Emperor von Hresvelg might steal her away? That King, uh…”

“Alexandre Blaiddyd.”

“ _ That _ , might whisk her off into the night?”

“You should consider trying to remember the full names of some of the Adrestian and Faerghus royalty, you know. I might entrust some important meetings to you one day.”

Hilda snorted, and stood up dramatically. “Mr. Dimitri…” She pretended to look at the scroll. “Salamander Bladekid, could you pretty please send reinforcements to the Alliance? The humans have attacked relentlessly at our borders, and we just haven’t a clue what to do!”

Claude stood up as well, but closed one of his eyes and hunched over slightly, and gritted his teeth. “Are you a jester or a retainer, fairy? If you are the latter, then I caution you try that again.” He watched as the half-fairy half-demon froze up.

“He doesn’t…  _ actually _ talk like that, does he?” Claude laughed again, though in a much more stereotypically-villainous way, causing the ornaments on his antlers to jingle like windchimes.

“I am King Dimitri! Fear me, or  _ brace _ yourself for my guillotine!”

“Knock it off.” She smacked him lightly.

“He’s a nice guy, underneath those layers and layers of clothing. Treat him well, and he’ll do the same for you.”

“And what about the Emperor?”

“Now her, on the other hand…” Claude sighed, and furrowed his eyebrows. “She’ll kill you with a whisper of your mother’s name.”

“So she’s nice as well.”

“Basically. They’re uptight, but it’s only because they need to be. Got a lot of characters who they need to keep in line.”

“And yet, you’re as unwound as a loose string.” Hilda remarked, before thinking about what he said a little more. “Though I suppose that somewhere within you, you’re just as uptight as they are. You’re hardly what I’d call negligent.”

“Comes with the job, I’m afraid. A lot of cleaning up after other people, including people who have been dead for years. I’d hate to die with loose ends.”

“We’ll probably just die old at this rate. We’re not fighting off the Kingdom or the Empire, in fact, the opposite I’d say, we’re trying to strike up a friendship with Almyra, and humans don’t…” She stopped herself. “Well, there’s not a  _ huge _ influx of humans getting past the border.”

“They could still get past the border. The Crest Stones are out there somewhere, and Seiros never guaranteed they’d fall into the hands of those who needed them.”

Hilda grimaced slightly, before opening the scroll back up and giving it one last look-over. “Oookay, I know that conversation just opened a particularly-depressing can of worms, but what’s this last one? A ball?”

“Oh, that. Just something I’m planning for the beginning of next year.”

“... A ball isn’t ‘just something’. What’re you getting at, something to celebrate the new year?”

“No, Pegasus Moon.”

“Claude.”

“What?” A smirk grew on his face.

“You’re being vague. Like,  _ intentionally _ vague. Which means you’re teasing me.”

“I would  _ never _ ,  _ ever _ do something like that to you, trusted retainer Hilda Valentine Goneril.”

“Then tell me what this ball’s for, leader man.”

“Graduating to this kind of talk, have we?”

“ _ I’m being serious _ .” Not wanting to contribute any more to the banter, Hilda metaphorically put her foot down and crossed her arms. “Tell me what it is.”

“Well,” Claude paused, seemingly still not wanting to give her a direct answer. “It’s not really a  _ ball _ , per say, more of a gathering that aesthetically looks and feels similar to a ball.” Hilda nodded, encouraging (Or threatening?) him to go on. “A lot of Leicester Alliance members will be there. … Ones we’re close with, so Lysithea, Marianne, Ignatz, and Raphael to name a few. But it’s more small-scale than the average ball.”

“You’re still prancing around the subject.”

“I’m a deer centaur, prancing is kind of our thing.”

“ _ Claude _ .”

“You’re right, sorry.” He rubbed his head, frowning. “The problem is, Leonie and Lysithea would wrap me in a blanket and set me on fire if I told you any more… even this much is a bit… well, cutting it close.”

“Ohhhh… well, sure. I guess I won’t ask about it anymore then. Sorry for badgering you.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got some house chores to take care of, you mind hanging out here for a bit?”

“Sure, go ahead!” Claude nodded to her as he stretched his legs and trotted off.

Hilda herself stood up, stretching out her arms and twisting her body back and forth, slowly pacing over to the room’s balcony, right next to that wretched staircase she’d painstakingly climbed up to get here in the first place. The things she did for this Alliance. A decade or so ago, she’d perceived herself as the black sheep of the Goneril  family—not that Holst or her father treated her poorly (quite the opposite in fact, and delightfully so), but more so her being painfully aware that she’d never be responsible for carrying the family name, or being a representative at Alliance meetings. It was so,  _ so _ easy to fall into a rhythm of laziness and apathy when your actions meant almost nothing in the grand scheme of things. But then, one fateful day, everything had changed. The day Claude had invited her to be his retainer, well, she was initially reluctant because she knew there was a lot of work to be done. She’d grown up with a lot of the future nobles in close proximity to her, and knew that managing them all would be one big headache. On top of that, there was making sure Claude didn’t get himself killed with his quick thoughts and sharp tongue. All-in-all, there was a lot on her shoulders and… well, it was terrifying! She’d never had this much expected of her in her life. She sighed as she slumped her body against the railing of the balcony, watching the sun sink slowly below the horizon as it painted the sky a flurry of orange and red hues.

“Pegasus Moon…” she said out loud, squinting as she looked in the direction of the setting sun. “... Oh.” Finally, the realization had dawned on her. “Those idiots are trying to throw me a surprise birthday party.”

Well, even if coordinating them to keep the Alliance working like an  _ alliance _ was a lot for her, it was never once unrewarding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh boy it's my turn.  
hello, i'm joking motive (it's. it's an ace attorney theme name i promise), and i played golden deers first so now is my time to REP! MY! HOUSE! i really like claude/hilda, but i tried not to let that bias get in the way, so it can be read entirely platonic or romantically, whichever you want. just a man and his retainer! nothing weird going on there, folks [i wink at the camera]
> 
> next chapter's about the blue lions! i've been doing the editing for the person writing it and it's definitely something to look forward to!


	4. Morning Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The air in Faerghus might be freezing, but that doesn't mean hearts should freeze over too.

_ Imperial Year 1185, Red Wolf Moon _

The morning air brought about a chill in the Kingdom of Faerghus, and Fhirdiad was no different. While most would still be asleep, curled up in the warmth of their rooms if only for a little longer, there were a few brave souls who steeled the cold. Dimitri himself was one of those souls. Down in the courtyard, amidst a sea of decimated training dummies stood the King. In the silence of the morning, the scene could almost be seen as tranquil; At least, until one got closer. Seemingly snarling at a dummy clutched in his claws, Dimitri was anything but calm. Scorpion tail whipping back and forth in a frenzy, wings flared and mane bristling, the man looked close to biting its head off. “_ Even now I can hear them. Crawling through the woodworks like rats. I will hunt them all down. I will kill every last one of them and revel as they burn in the eternal flame. I promise you this.” _

The distant caw of a crow seemed to snap Dimitri out of his stupor, and he dropped the training dummy in an unceremonial heap next to its kin. Running a hand through his hair, Dimitri let out a shaky sigh before stumbling out of the courtyard. When had the sun risen? Surely it had just been peeking over the horizon when he had come outside for training. How long had he been out there? Mentally attempting to figure out the timeline of his morning seemed to only succeed in giving him a headache. Luckily, the dining hall was close by, and the distant smell of food helped to quell the ache.  
Upon entering the dining hall, Dimitri caught sight of Felix, who quickly scowled at him as he moved to stand. “Ah, so the Boar has finally decided to leave its pen.” Mood sour enough as it was, Dimitri made no attempt to dissuade the barb and merely gave a soft grunt in acknowledgement. Felix opened his mouth to speak further, his dark blue wolf ears flicking about; but decided against it, instead shoving his way past and off into the hallway. 

“Pay him no mind, Your Majesty. Felix has been in a foul mood all morning.” A voice piped up from another table. For a moment, Dimitri almost laughed at the comment. So it seemed there were still some things in this world Felix and Dimitri shared, even if it was only foul morning moods. Looking over to the source of the voice, he was greeted by the sight of his retainer, Dedue. 

“Ah, Dedue, I hope your morning has at least been well?” Dimitri asked, moving to sit across from the large Firbolg. Various dishes seemed to already be at the table, and Dimitri wondered for a moment how long Dedue had been waiting for him. 

“As well as one can be, considering the time of year.” The duo pulled their cloaks tighter around themselves at the comment, bracing for a breeze that would not come. “What about you, Your Majesty? I went to retrieve you from your room earlier, but it seemed you were already gone. Training in the courtyard I presume?”  
“You would be correct. I couldn’t seem to stay still this morning so I left early to work off some excess energy.” _Nightmares_ goes unsaid, but both men knew this to be the reason. “I… may have gone overboard this time though.” Dimitri admitted with an almost sheepish twitch of the lips. “I will have to see about acquiring a new set of training dummies for the courtyard.” Dedue nodded along, and the pair ate their breakfast in silence. 

* * *

Afterwards, as they made their way out of the dining hall, Dimitri paused, rubbing his forehead. “Your Ma—” At the disgruntled glare sent his way, Dedue cleared his throat and tried again, after making sure no one else was around. “Dimitri. Are you alright?” He made to offer his arm out, an invitation to lean upon him that the King surprisingly took up. 

“I’m fine Dedue, just...just my head is all. I had hoped some food would dilute the pain.” Dimitri grumbled out as they slowly made their way towards an empty sitting room. The room was simple, a couple of armchairs and a couch all placed around a coffee table which in turn was near a fireplace. Helping the young king settle onto the couch, Dedue proceeded to start setting up a small fire.

“Headaches again? Have you been sleeping lately?” Dedue asked, before kneeling in front of Dimitri. The manticore waved his hand lazily as if that was all the response needed, but eventually shook his head ‘no’ at the eyes he could feel boring into him. Dedue let out a soft sigh before speaking again. “Do I have to write to Byleth, Your Majesty?” The tone was both a question and a joke, and both were appreciated. 

“You wouldn’t.” Dimitri breathed out with a soft snicker, peeking an icy eye out from under his hand. It was a common ‘threat’ between the two. Whenever Dimitri was being too stubborn, Dedue would contemplate sending a letter off to Byleth, who never failed to show up as soon as possible. At first it had been mostly to keep the nightmares at bay; the strange mercenary seemed to have a knack for scaring away nightmares by mere presence alone. Ever since their chance meeting five years ago, Byleth had carved out a niche spot in Dimitri’s life for being a source of comfort, even if they so rarely got to see each other nowadays. 

“Then rest.” It was a simple request, but one not so easily fulfilled. Dedue watched the King, mindful of his sunken head. Even with the fire slowly warming up the tiny room, Dimitri seemed to remain a cold spot. As if any warmth brought near him was just as quickly whisked away, and with it any hopes of a peaceful slumber. A tug on his hands had Dedue’s brow furrowed in confusion. 

“You talk of rest, and yet here you are kneeling on the ground. The couch is big enough for both of us, I should think.” Taking the King up on his own request, Dedue moved to sit beside him on the couch, and was once again surprised at how quickly Dimitri slumped his head onto his shoulder. He really must be exhausted. Dedue was no Byleth, but if his presence brought even an ounce of comfort, then it would be enough. If only for the moment. 

The room was silent, save for the crackling of the fire, and Dedue risked a glance over at the hopefully sleeping King. Only to find him staring into the fire, a distant, glazed look in his eyes. “Do you hear the voices of the dead Dedue?”  
“I don’t.” 

“They are all I hear. Day in and day out, Dedue. They’re crying. Begging for salvation, and here I am, doing _ nothing. _” Dimitri’s voice starts out strong, but by the end it's barely a whimper. The tone is downright pitiful, and Dedue ponders his next words carefully. 

“Your Majesty ...Dimitri. You cannot carry the weight of the world upon your shoulders alone. Please, allow me to help carry this burden. You will not be able to avenge, or save anybody at this rate.” 

“I saved you didn’t I?” 

“You did. Now let me save you.” Dedue shifted his body towards Dimitri, and after a moment of hesitation, pulled the other man into a hug. “Is this alright?” He then asked tentatively. Resting his head on Dedue’s chest, Dimitri huffed out a breath, a weak attempt at a laugh. 

“It’s fine, Dedue.” The words tumbled out, perhaps out of habit, but Dimitri was surprised at just how true they were. The voices that had plagued his mind all morning were silent, and the only noise he could hear and feel under his hands, was the steady thrum of Dedue’s heartbeat. The pair shifted again to get more comfortable, which resulted in Dedue lying on his back and taking up most of the couch and with Dimitri on top, still trapped in a hug neither intended to end anytime soon. 

“It is still early, I doubt much of the Court will be awake anytime soon,” Dedue mumbled out, eyes already closed. The warmth of the fire coupled by Dimitri’s obscenely large fur cloak had begun to take their toll on his own wakefulness. 

“I suppose you’re correct.” When no response was given, Dimitri glanced up to look at the other man’s face. It was rare to see Dedue seem so relaxed, especially when all the scars made it seem as if he was eternally grumpy; but anyone who bothered to have a conversation with him knew it was the opposite. He talked of wanting to save Dimitri, and yet didn’t seem to realize how many times he had already saved him just by staying at his side. “Dedue?”

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“Why do you stay here? The people of Faerghus have been nothing but cruel to you, and we have made almost no progress in finding those who actually caused the Tragedy.” The words came out in a tumble, a floodgate kept sealed for too long busted open by the secluded environment. 

“You already answered that yourself. You saved me. I pledged my life to you on that day and I intend to see that through.”

“Even if it gets you killed?” He knew the answer already, but it never got any easier to hear.

“Of course. Wherever you go I shall follow.” Dedue’s words had come out easily, his heart never once faltered at the statement, but Dimitri’s had. His tongue felt heavy, and he was reminded of Felix’s comment earlier, alongside all of his other jabs. Still, there was one more question to ask. One that weighed upon his mind when he was left alone.

“Even if that path leads to nothing but darkness? Even if I do become the monster Felix claims I am? Even if I lead you down a path that you know is wrong?” Dimitri wasn’t dense. He knew that anger and bitterness, and the howling of his fallen brethren grew louder every day. That those voices rattled around, and smothered his own ideals a little more each time he listened. How much longer until they hollowed him out for good? 

“Do you intend on becoming a monster?” Dedue’s own eyes are open now, and if his arms hadn’t already rooted Dimitri to the spot, then his stare would of. 

“No, no! Of course not but-”

“Then I do not see the problem.” Dimitri opened his mouth to protest, but each new word died in his throat. There was so much wrong with that statement, and yet he could not find the will to disagree. If Dedue could place his faith in him so wholeheartedly, well then, Dimitri had to be true to his own words too. He had no intention of losing himself, and with Dedue at his side, the likelihood of that seemed to dwindle with each passing second. 

“I…. thank you Dedue.”

“No thanks are nec-”

“No. They are necessary. So again, I thank you. Not just for this, but for everything.” 

“...You’re welcome.” Once more the pair drifted off into silence as Dimitri shifted his head to the side to get comfortable. A minute passed. Then two. Dedue tightened the hug for a moment and when Dimitri puffed out another laugh Dedue grumbled, “I can feel you thinking from here. Just sleep.” 

“I’m trying I’m trying, promise.” Each time he closed his eyes he just as quickly opened them, haunted images dancing behind his lids. He took a moment to ground himself once more and instead focused on the things around himself. The warmth of the arms wrapped around him, tight enough to proclaim safety, but loose enough to not feel smothering. The steady thump of his companions heartbeat. The tickle of breaths that caused his hair to shift. The sight of a meager fire, slowly fading away. The closed door that allowed them such a respite; but best of all, the sounds of nothing but the living. Perhaps, a nap would be nice…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last but not least are the Blue Lions, and as the first person of the triad to play this route it was up to me to bring up the rear. If we're being honest, I was originally going to go for an entirely different tone in this chapter but in the end, I think this version is nicer. Softer. 
> 
> Hmm what else... Well if it wasn't clear, Dimitri is a Manticore, Dedue is a Firbolg, and as for Felix... well let's just say he is *not* the resident werewolf. Either way, I hope you enjoyed the Blue Lions intro and I know Kuzuriolu already has a special chapter planned for perhaps tomorrow? Look forward to it <3


	5. In Your Embrace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> petrathea, some pure fluff! lesbian rights.

_ Imperial Year 1185 - Ethereal Moon _

Ten years ago, in Imperial Year 1175, the normally peaceful Fódlan Woods was forced into an unexpected war. Forces from Dagda joined with soldiers from a small archipelago by the name of Brigid and invaded Empire territory. They made landfall at the western most territories of the Fódlan Woods, Nuvelle and Ochs, catching Imperial citizens off guard. Though the losses Fódlan endured were great, they paled in comparison to the Empire’s enraged retaliation. An enormous army struck back to meet the oncoming forces, armed to the teeth with mythical weapons infused with ancient power said to have been granted by the Goddess. The warriors of Brigid and Dagda were no match, and as a result, were decimated by hordes of Imperial monsters. 

But the Empire’s wrath did not simply end there. They traveled by boat to Dagda and nearly eviscerated everyone, leaving the former bountiful nation bare. Brigid, who had long been an ally of Dagda, was taken into the arms of the Empire and forced to become a vassal state. Among those killed in battle was the prince of Brigid, a formidable warrior in his own right. The Empire then forced the king to surrender his only remaining heiress, his granddaughter, to the clutches of the royal family. She was to be taken as a hostage, used as insurance that Brigid would not attempt their crusade again. The terrified young princess was hauled onto a ship and carried back to Enbarr, to be locked within the confines of a tiny room in the Imperial castle. Sorcerers in service of the prime minister cast upon her a curse so that if she managed to sneak out, she would never be able to leave the Fódlan Woods.

Ten years later, the very same princess stood high upon a tree deep within Empire territory, about an hour north of Enbarr. Petra Macneary had been freed by the gracious emperor Edelgard, who had resorted power to the Imperial throne. She was now allowed to roam the woods freely at her own discretion, an offer which she took in full. However, the curse placed upon her was ever present, a reminder of its existence etched in the form of a chain-like wine red tattoo around her throat, nearly blended in with the various marks upon her body. Not even the sorcerer Hubert was able to find an antidote for it. As such, even now, the princess of Brigid was unable to return home.

Sharp, claw like fingernails tug into the side of tree bark as Petra steadied her paws upon a sturdy branch. From a mane of fuchsia hair tied back into a ponytail and expertly held in place by braids, two wolf ears stuck out in place of human ones. An array of pointed teeth lined the inside of her mouth, complete with a set of dagger-like canines capable of ripping flesh with ease. The attire of which she adorned was of Brigid—gifted to her by her grandfather from a care package that arrived overseas. Her neck was covered in shimmering necklaces made from jewelry only found in Brigid in order to hide the unsightly curse upon her, and the top which she wore exposed almost the entirety of her back, save for a single strap at the midpoint. From her shoulder, a large purple scarf strapped to her extended downwards and wrapped around her mostly exposed midriff, tying down to a traditional short skirt made of fresh hide caught in Brigid held up by a belt. It left just enough room for a fluffy, fuchsia wolf tail to pop out. She did not opt to wear shoes, instead, her legs were covered in fur the same color of her hair, leading down to two wolf paws in place of feet. 

The werewolves of Brigid were far different from werewolves of Fódlan, so much so that they were called “shapeshifters” instead. While Petra could transform to and from her wolf form at will, Brigid shapeshifters also had the ability to learn the shape of another form with enough study and practice. To do so was not easy, but those who had become a master of many forms were extraordinary fighters. Petra’s father had been one of them. Despite his royal blood, he was a fighter at heart and a master at hunting. He taught his beloved daughter all about the best ways to stalk prey and how to utilize the carcass for all sorts of purposes, and Petra had listened diligently. She had been the light of his life, his precious little pup, his sweet angel.

Petra cleared her throat. He was gone now, life torn away at the hands of an Imperial noble possessing the strength of a thousand men. When she was little, Petra had thought her father unstoppable, until the very day his mangled corpse and severed head were dropped in front of the terrified youngling. That very scene that unfolded in front of her fueled her every single day. She did not allow rage to consume her being, instead, she used the flames of determination to push her forward, so that one day she could be as great a warrior as her father had been; and, perhaps, if this curse were to ever be broken, a powerful, proud queen. She closed her eyes and pressed the palms of her hands together, whispering a quiet prayer to the spirits of Brigid to lend her their strength. She envisioned the powerful, sturdy wings of a hawk soaring high in the sky beyond the sky-scraping trees, and concentrated hard to sprout them from her exposed back. As she did, a set of wings covered in feathers that matched the shade of her fur and hair grew, unfurling themselves to the world. With resolve, Petra set her eyes upon the air before her. To be as mighty as the hawk, she must be able to take flight.

Determination burning within her, the shapeshifter launched herself in the air with a powerful spring of her paws. Her newly grown wings flapped as cold air brushed through her feathers. She pictured herself flying side by side with a flock of noble birds amongst the clouds, free as could be. Her clawed hands extended out towards another branch, ready to land herself. 

...But it was not to be. For a moment, she hovered comically in the air as her wings tried frantically to keep her afloat. It seemed that all her studying on how birds actually flew was _ not _paying off, for soon the sprouted wings betrayed her completely and sent her crashing to the forest floor. She landed upon a patch of dirt and roots, eliciting a pained cry from her mouth. The wings vanished in a flurry of sparks, leaving behind an injured wolf girl planted face first on the ground. 

“It… was not meant to be…” she groaned into the dirt as an unwelcome amount of soil poured into her mouth. She pulled herself upwards and immediately spat out the offending muck, wiping her mouth upon her arm. “Even though I have trained with hardness, I am… not yet ready…”

As she stood, she felt a sharp burst of pain in her right leg. She winced and bit her teeth together to prevent herself from crying out in pain. It seemed that she would have to retire from training for the day. Her face flushed with embarrassment at her foolish failed attempt, realizing that she would soon have to explain the source of her injury to the woman she had been rooming with for the past few weeks. “Dorothea, please have understanding...” she whispered to herself as she hobbled forward, dragging her injured paw upon the dirt. 

The house she had been residing in was not far from the spot she had chosen for practice. It was not a particularly extravagant building, with walls lined with common wood and stone that didn’t exactly fetch a high price. It was tucked away amongst a few trees and possessed a tiny pond crawling with frogs. The roof had become overgrown with grass and moss and even had a flower or two poking out. A single lantern hung next to the door, the sole source of light when night claimed the sky. In terms of size, it was just about average, but it was certainly easy to miss if one wasn’t looking for it. Petra, despite growing up in a castle, found it rather comfortable and did not mind how quaint it was. After all, here in Fódlan, she was nothing but a commoner. The shapeshifter hopped on over towards the wooden doorway and jiggled open the doorknob. 

As soon as the door flung open, Petra collapsed upon the straw welcome mat. Her leg was searing with pain, and standing upon it any longer was more trouble than necessary. She grumbled to herself upon the ground, feeling completely and utterly defeated. Her father would have been ashamed to see such a pitiful display! She was ready to simply lie there and bask in self pity.

“Petra?” a voice spoke out from in front of her. “Are you all right?”

Lifting her head up from the ground, Petra caught sight of a pair of jet black talons in front of her. Her eyes scanned upwards to find her roommate, Dorothea, looking down upon her with concern in her eyes.

Petra promptly jerked upwards, scrambling to sit. “Dorothea!” she exclaimed. “I… am fine! Erm… that is to be saying, I have received an injury… but I _ will _be fine!” 

Dorothea was a creature of beauty. A former songstress from the Mittlefrank Opera Company, she had set out on her own in order to study magic. Years ago, she had danced elegantly upon the stage and captured the hearts of thousands with a voice that sounded as though it was gifted to her by the Goddess itself. If anyone were to ask Petra, she would insist that Dorothea’s looks too were a gift from the heavens. Gorgeous locks of milk chocolate brown hair fell from her head onto her bare shoulders. She possessed emerald green eyes that seemed to shine just like real jewels, reminding Petra of the deep green seas of her homeland. Her striking red dress exposed just a bit of cleavage and ended in voluminous frilled sleeves on either side, revealing hands shaped like sharp talons. The fabric trailed down her entire front like a grand cape, though it left her white feathered legs exposed. Her entire back was exposed in order to make room for a pair of pure white, enormous wings that jutted out from her shoulder blades and reached down to her ankles. Her dress was held up by a black choker studded with a red gem in the center, and a pair of extravagant earrings hung down from her pointed, feathered ears. Even looking at her, Petra felt her heartbeat escalating, her tail involuntarily beginning to wag. 

“Petra! You need to be more careful,” uttered Dorothea. As she spoke, Petra could spot a glimmer of her sharp canines. “Come now. Let me take a look at where it hurts, all right?”

Shakily, the wolf girl stood. Dorothea was always so kind to her… it made her heart feel incredibly full. She dragged her injured foot to her bed, which lay in a room to the back of their abode. The two shared a room but not beds, though they lay parallel to each other with a single nightstand between them. Petra plopped herself down and outstretched her leg in the air. Dorothea joined her side and took the fur-covered leg into her talons, shaking her head. “It looks like you may have twisted it. How in the Goddess’s name did you manage to do that, Petra?” she inquired, a frown upon her features. 

“...I was training my powers. I was wanting to be able to grow wings and fly,” she confessed, the beginnings of a blush upon her heated cheeks. “My grandfather is a shapeshifter whose forms are many. I have not yet had learnings about how to master the flight. I have been studying with diligence. I was… I was wanting to be flying beside you.”

Emerald eyes expressed shock at the shapeshifter’s sentiments. “Oh, Petra! What a lovely thought,” gushed Dorothea, her face softening. “But next time, how about if I train with you? I’m sort of an expert when it comes to flying, after all… I’ve been doing it all my life. Sort of… well, comes with the species.”

“I was hoping to be surprising you,” admitted Petra, bashfully looking down at the bedsheets. The red tint upon her cheeks was spreading rapidly. She had pictured herself unfurling her wings and taking to the air alongside Dorothea, and the shocked look that surely would have appeared upon the harpy’s face. “I was thinking… if I were to be learning myself, you would feel proud for me.”

Petra could not see the reaction upon Dorothea’s face, for she was still intent on looking the other way. “You’re such a sweetheart, Petra,” she admired. “But I would have been proud of you even if I had been the one to teach you, all right? So, next time, let’s practice the whole flying thing together, all right?”

Hearing such a thing sent Petra’s tail back into a frenzy. “You are telling the truth!? Then yes! I would be liking that greatly!” she replied enthusiastically. Her tail swung back and forth, hitting the bedsheets with a loud _ thwap _!

“Well we can talk about all that later. I still have to heal you, remember?” Dorothea pointed out. Her talons hovered over the injured portion of the shapeshifter’s legs, and soon, became engulfed in white, swirling light. Petra’s muscles instantly relaxed as a cool, soothing sensation overtook her, chasing away the pain. When the light faded, she was left with a numb feeling in her leg. Dorothea was by no means an expert in the field of white magic. In fact, years ago, when they had first met at an opera in Enbarr, Dorothea had claimed to despise it. It was a talented instructor by the name of Byleth who had shown the harpy the secret to unlocking her hidden potential, and ever since then, she had been studying it diligently. She had certainly improved in the last five years, that was for certain.

“I am impressed!” declared Petra, eyes widened. “You have become an expert at white magic! I am not feeling any more pain. You are truly incredibly, Dorothea!”

Dorothea scratched her cheek with the tip of a talon-like nail. “I wouldn’t call myself an expert, per say...” 

Petra shook her head. “No! You have a talent, Dorothea!” she insisted. Her tail refused to cease its persistent wagging, now moving at speeds almost unknown to her. “I have admiration!”

The harpy giggled to herself. “You are too precious, Petra,” she expressed. “But careful you don’t sprain your tail from wagging it so hard.”

“I cannot be helping it! My tail has a mind of its own,” protested the excited shapeshifter. “It is always wagging when you are here.”

Petra absolutely could not contain herself around Dorothea. The extent of her adoration for the other woman was thinly veiled by the openly affectionate nature of shapeshifters. While other species tended to be far more modest with each other, werewolves and shapeshifters were known to express admiration through physical contact. The pair had known each other for five years now, and while they spent more time with each other more years than others, the flames of Petra’s feelings for Dorothea had not died down. There were many times Petra had wondered if the former songstress had felt the same of her, but she had never dared ask. 

Many years ago, Dorothea was nothing but a street urchin. A lost child with no parents, wandering through broken alleys of Enbarr in search of scraps to nourish herself. It was only pure luck that had drawn her towards a different path as a beloved opera singer upon the stage. When Petra had visited the opera alongside Edelgard and her ever loyal servant Hubert, every seat in the crowd had been occupied. Hundreds cheered as the beautiful young harpy had taken the stage, enchanting everyone with graceful movements and the way her white feathers shimmered like jewels in the stage lights. Petra had been enraptured as well, her eyes never once leaving the woman as she sang elegantly, her crystal clear voice echoing through every wall in the room. It was only through Edelgard’s royal ties that she was able to meet Dorothea backstage after the show had concluded. Petra remembered well the ocean of smitten noblemen wanting to meet her, declaring their undying love for her and showering her with gifts. Yet, despite all the handsome suitors, the woman had taken time out of her day to speak with Petra and ask her about Brigid, not once insulting her for her broken manner of speech. She hadn’t fallen in love with her, not immediately. It took years of training by her side for Petra to realize that what she felt was not a simple friendship, but a desire for something deeper. 

Love was a subject that came naturally to Dorothea. She always entertained herself with matters of gossip, especially amongst their mutual friends. Musings of how close Edelgard and instructor Byleth were, of how Hubert wasn’t as totally annoyed with Ferdinand as he so claimed, of how there _ had _ to be more than just friendship between Caspar and Linhardt… meanwhile, Dorothea herself sought out a perfect man to make her dreams of fairytale romance a reality. Even though hundreds of men of varying degrees of wealth offered themselves up to her, she had spurned their advances. There were plenty of men who she had taken on dates, but none ever received a second. After every single one, Dorothea would welcome herself into the room Petra had been given in the Imperial castle and lament about how he had only seen her for who she was on the outside.

“I suppose I should take that as a compliment then!” Dorothea replied with a small laugh. “You’re just about the sweetest person I know. You never hide what you’re thinking, unlike those jerk men who take me on dates and then expect _ favors _ for doing simple things I never asked them to do.” She huffed at the thought. “Perhaps this whole idea of marrying money was a bust. Noblemen are such dreadful people.”

Petra had never truly understood Dorothea’s pursuit of men. Despite her grandfather’s insistence that she find herself a good husband from Fódlan to bring back once her curse had been shattered, she had never once felt strongly for a man. There had been occasions where Dorothea had urged her to talk with a man at a tavern, and while she had found some of them sweet, her heart never felt it. She only had ever desired the romantic company of Dorothea. She had told herself to lock her feelings away in her heart and be content with their living arrangement, but as the days went on, it was harder and harder to conceal her overwhelming love for the beautiful harpy. She nodded thoughtlessly along with Dorothea’s ramblings. 

“Money would be a bad husband…” she remarked, not entirely understanding her words.

“Right?” Dorothea agreed, a crooked smile upon her face. “But I’m glad I have you, Petra. Being around you makes me stop worrying about marriage and status.”

Petra’s ears perked up. “You have my gratitude!” she gushed. “Having… a friend like you, Dorothea, is giving me much happiness! You are the most precious thing in the world me!”

“Oh… oh my, Petra. What a lovely thing to say,” Dorothea gasped. “I truly don’t deserve you.”

“No! You are deserving of me. It is me who is not deserving of you,” Petra insisted. “Even though I am not able to be providing much for you, you are allowing me to be living with you, and even trying to break my curse so that I can be returning to Brigid someday.” 

“Oh, I’d do absolutely anything for you, Petra,” breathed Dorothea, gazing at her with unmistakable adoration in her eyes. 

Just that simple look caused Petra to rethink everything about locking her feelings away deep in her heart, never to be unearthed. She couldn’t help herself! Her body lunged forward, her arms wrapping themselves around Dorothea’s body as the harpy’s back collided with the mattress. Petra positioned her head firmly in the crook of Dorothea’s neck, nuzzling it lovingly with her nose as her tail swished happily back and forth. A happy purr escaped her throat as she squeezed the other woman tightly, closing her eyes and basking in the warmth of the other woman. Such a display of affection was typical for her whenever the two of them had heartfelt talks, but it never failed to catch Dorothea off guard. Some days, the shapeshifter couldn’t keep herself from cuddling up to the harpy. It was simply engraved into her very being, as with all of her kind. After a moment’s hesitation, Dorothea’s hands came to tangle themselves in the princess’s fuschia mane. 

“So cute,” whispered Dorothea. Her fingers caressed long locks of hair. “I could never get used to this.”

“I am wanting to spend forever in your embrace,” professed Petra. “Even if my curse is broken, I am not wanting to be leaving you. I am wanting you to come to Brigid with me.” Such might as well have been a confession of love.

“I think I’d like that,” Dorothea mused, cracking a warm smile as a finger twirled a strand of hair. “Just the two of us on the Brigid beach, basking in the warm sun. Doing whatever we wanted, whenever we wanted…”

“Yes. I am wanting that very much,” breathed Petra, her voice barely above a whisper. It was her deepest fantasy, to live alongside Dorothea in her homeland. Of course, in that fantasy, the two of them were happily married to one another, but she could cross that bridge another time. For now, she had this moment to bask in. Her eyes shut as she buried her face into Dorothea’s neck, breathing in and taking in her scent. She always smelled of roses. She was getting rather sleepy despite the sun just beginning to set. Perhaps a nap was in order, and what better way to relax than in the arms of the woman she so desperately loved?

As Petra drifted into a warm slumber, Dorothea adjusted the other woman’s position. She placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, staining it with cherry-flavored red lipstick. 

“Oh, Petra. Maybe I should give up on finding a man after all,” whispered Dorothea to herself, when she was certain the woman had fallen asleep. “I don’t think I could love any man as much as I do you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, i post petrathea TWICE in one day! it's petra's birthday, after all, and i had to give her some time with her wife. i originally was gonna make dorothea a different kind of monster, but i got way too attached to the idea of her being a bird woman after writing On Broken Wings (shameless plug for my other fanfic, go read it if you haven't). so i guess im just the designated lesbian bird woman writer.
> 
> would really appreciate a kudo if you liked this! comments always welcome of course.
> 
> if you have any suggestions for what other pairings we should be writing, please leave it in a comment! thank you for reading.


	6. Matters of Ink and Parchment (and the Heart)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lysithea receives a letter from Garreg Mach.

_Imperial Year 1185, Great Tree Moon_

“Lady von Ordelia, your mail.”

“Thank you, please set it on the table there.” ‘Lady’ von Ordelia (that was a title she’d never get used to) looked up from her book, nestled a bookmark into the spine, and closed it softly. The House Ordelia servingman placed the mail on the side table, bowed, and then left the room. Trading her book for the mail, the white-haired girl began sifting through the mail.

“Let’s see here… a request from House Gloucester, a meeting with Empire officials… Garreg Mach?” Curiously, she plucked the letter from the stack, examining it. “This handwriting is…” Well, putting it lightly, it was chicken scratch. Something she probably could’ve done better than when she was a child. That ruled out it being from most of the Knights of Seiros (who as she’d noticed from service to the Alliance, all seemed to have fairly neat handwriting), as well as from either Seteth or Lady Rhea herself. That left two people it could be from. Gingerly, she opened the envelope. Hopefully this wasn’t someone masquerading as a Church official with an attempt to hex her with something when she opened this.

… Nothing came out. She pulled out the letter, her eyes immediately darting to the last line to see who it was from. … Ah, Cyril. Things were starting to make sense now, though she hadn’t taught him how to write. Well, time to actually read this letter.

_ Dear Lysithea, _

_ Thank you for the lessons. I can read without help these days, and it’s thanks to you. Since I can read, I’ve tried writing. I’m keeping a book open as I’m doing this, so I can look at the letters as I try to spell out the words. This part’s kind of hard. I don’t think my letters look anything like the book ones, so I hope you can read this. _

_ Things at Garreg Mach have been the same as always. I still do chores most of the time, but I’ve gone on expeditions with the Knights of Seiros. I think I have a lot to learn from them. Catherine’s so quick, she zooms around the battlefield carrying Thunderbrand like it weighs nothing. Alois is formidable, I don’t think I’ve once seen him think twice about having been hit by an enemy’s blow, and despite that armor, he’s actually pretty nimble on his paws. I’ve only foughten side-by-side next to Seteth twice or thrice, but he’s actually way more strong than you’d think just by looking at him. I figured he’d be the kind of guy who stands back and heals, like a priest, but his specialty is with a lance (when I told him this, he laughed at me, and said he got that a lot). But out of all of them, I still think Shamir’s the coolest, and that’s not just because she’s my mentor. I don’t see her in battle often, but sometimes I’ll see a flurry of black feathers or hear the flap of wings, and know she’s nearby. It kind of makes me wish I could fly. _

_ Hanneman is sort of my tutor now, I guess. Lady Rhea saw me reading and asked if I was interested in learning in a school setting, and I told her I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t at least briefly considered it, so she asked him to teach me some school stuff. I don’t know how you all put up with these weirdos teaching you all this stuff with numbers and battlefield strategies. Hanneman’s a headache, with how he talks nonstop about Crests and how mysterious they are, and that we don’t really know where the Crest Stones went after Seiros scattered them. I guess that part’s interesting, but no one’s wandered out of the woods for years, and no one wants to. And I don’t have a Crest either. _

_ Oh, we’ve also seen Jeralt a few times, too. He looks exactly the same as he did years ago. He’s got the same hairstyle, same clothing, same attitude. It’s kind of like time passes for everyone but him. He still talks to us and treats us the same, but I think he’s closer to Lady Rhea than he lets on. I don’t know what he’s thinking, but if he tries anything, Shamir’s been teaching me a few things about dealing with mounted enemies with my bow. Not that I’d shoot the Blade Breaker though. Only if he put Lady Rhea in danger. I’ve seen him spar with some of the Knights of Seiros and he’s practically unbeatable, and those guys are about as strong as an army. He’s always really humble when he wins, and while he’s no Byleth, he does give some advice to the soldiers for the next battle. I’d like to spar with him one day, but I don’t know if I should try fighting him with a bow or an axe. I kind of wonder what advice he’d give me. _

_ This note’s kind of long and I’m running out of space. I hope you’re doing well, and I hope you can read this letter. _

_ \- Cyril _

If Lysithea were to use a word to describe the idea of Cyril sending her a letter to demonstrate what he’d learned from her, she’d probably use… touching. She’d only taught him how to read so he’d be able to comprehend shopping lists, but the idea that he had tried to learn how to write in order to send her a letter to show her how hard he’d been working to learn the things he taught her definitely made her wolf-like tail wag a bit. The fact that he’d kept up with it even after five years? Even more so. Ugh. If she kept this up, she might sprain her tail again…

Well, no time to waste. Cyril had done this much, and it would be rude not to respond as soon as she could. She put aside the letter, hovering around the small room for a quill and some ink, careful to avoid the rays of sunlight leaking in through the window. She wasn’t a full vampire like Lorenz or that creepy retainer of Emperor Edelgard’s, only a weird hybrid of sorts, but being in the sunlight for too long caused her skin to receive an intense version of a sunburn, and she’d rather not live through that again. Carefully shuffling around the outline of the window she could see on the ground, Lysithea walked over to one of the shelves with some parchment, a quill, and a small bottle of ink, before walking back to and settling in her seat.

As she pulled one piece of parchment from the stack, she made the executive decision she would try and match typical book font as closely as possible. None of her usual flowery handwriting; Cyril could read common font, so common font was what she’d write in. That also meant none of the usual language she used when she was corresponding with officials either— some words in certain contexts could be confusing, and she wanted her letter to be as clear as possible. She uncapped the bottle, dipped her quill, and began to write.

_ Dear Cyril, _

_ Thank you very much for the lovely letter. I’m glad to hear that you’re doing well, and that the Knights of Seiros are still the same as always. I was surprised when I’d got your letter— I knew I hadn’t taught you how to write, but you’re a very quick learner. I’m quite impressed! _

_ Professor Hanneman is just teaching you some of the basics. If you’re having trouble with any school subjects, I can most certainly help. The things you’re learning don’t seem important now, but that is because they are concepts that have been distanced far from their practical uses so that they’re easier for you, as a beginner, to learn. Think of it like building a staircase. Ultimately, your goal is to build up to the top, right? To do that, you must start with the bottom stairs first, then build up to the top stair. _

_ Crests are also (unfortunately) very important to our society as it is. A lot of things about Crests _ are _ stupid, I will agree with you on that. But say, if you were going up against an enemy with a Crest, a Hero’s Relic, or perhaps one of the stray Crest Stones, you’d need to know how to account for it in your movements and strategy. You’re also not too familiar with the world outside of Garreg Mach, and I think that’s also partially what Professor Hanneman is getting at with his choices in subject matter. Crests define much of society’s structure, especially in times of unrest, which thankfully we are not in the middle of, but we could be due to any turn of events. _

_ Speaking of Byleth, she actually was in Alliance territory not too long ago. I think Claude needed her for some something-or-other, but it’s never a bad time to see her again. She’s still really sharp in her combat skills, and even though she doesn’t use a whole lot of magic, I still feel like I have a lot to learn from her. I dislike being ordered what to do, but she’s a good commander and an even better instructor, so I guess I’ll make exceptions for her. Oh, and did you know? She’s actually a fantastic fisher! I once saw her catch a fish as big as her head in the dead of night! _

_ If you’re going to spar with the Blade Breaker (And by _ spar, I mean spar. _ Don’t attack him!), I’d suggest using whichever you’re the most comfortable with. Bows are difficult at close range, but if you’re dextrous (fast enough with your hands) enough, then you should be able to hold your own to your best ability. I’ve seen Claude do some crazy stuff with his bow before on training dummies, and one would think if you trained hard enough, you could do some of that stuff too. I might be able to bully him to come down there and teach you some things, since you’re working alongside the Knights of Seiros now. I know Shamir’s pretty great and all, but that’s only one fighting technique to learn from. In order to best train your abilities, I think the best way is to learn from a variety of sources. _

_ Things in the Leicester Alliance have been pretty peaceful as of late. There are the days where we hear about skirmishes on the Almyran border, but that’s sort of the usual at this point. I think Claude was talking about how he wanted to do something about it, but he hasn’t told me anything more about his schemes. Hilda also seems rather tired about all the fighting (you see, since her house, House Goneril, defends the border), so I wouldn’t be surprised if Claude was in-part doing it for her. He tries to seem aloof sometimes, but he’s actually quite caring and considerate. I had tea with Marianne not too long ago, and she’s in high spirits as well. I think the past five years have been good for her— she smiles more, talks more, and laughs more. I’m really glad for her, honestly. I haven’t seen Ignatz or Raphael in a while, but supposedly they’re doing well (Claude hears from everyone, and I usually hear from him), and so is Lorenz. _ So _ well in fact that apparently he showed up directly on House Riegan’s doorstep, demanding funding for the agriculture there. Supposedly, they wanted more to contribute to a food shortage in one of the Kingdom territories. I’ll hand it to Lorenz, he goes about being a good person in the most dramatic ways possible. This is why I’m glad House Ordelia doesn’t even have a chance at becoming the head of the Alliance, because the Goddess knows that I’d have to deal with some of this nonsense. _

_ And as for me! I’ve been doing well, though I haven’t been outside of Ordelia territory in a while. Maybe I’ll come down for a visit at Garreg Mach soon! I’d love to see how things have changed in such a long while. And I need to say hi to everyone again. _

_ Thank you so much for the heartfelt letter, _

_ \- Lysithea von Ordelia _

That last part had been… a bit of a lie. Just as she finished signing the last part, she quickly turned her head and coughed into her arm. This fit wasn’t as bad as some of the others had been; it was over quickly and relatively painless. Maybe visiting Garreg Mach around this time of year wouldn’t be a bad idea. She’d need to talk to Hanneman, about the effects of what… _ this _, was doing to her body. If there was anything that could be done. If there was any way to reverse it. If she still had time to do something about it. If she still even had a few months of time left.

After a few shaky breaths, she stood up, carefully setting the freshly-written envelope on a shelf for it to dry, and retrieved a wax seal stamp. It was practically required to seal anything she was sending officially, but more of an extra layer of protection now since she was sending a casual letter. People tampering with mail from Alliance houses wasn’t completely unheard of, and she especially wanted this one to make it to Cyril. Once the ink was dry, she quickly made use of a nearby candle to melt the wax onto the envelope after she’d folded and tucked the letter inside of it, and slowly pressed the stamp down on it, holding it in place before lifting it to admire her work. … Even though she was technically in charge of her house these days and had a lot of practice doing this sort of thing, her stamps still looked incredibly clumsy. Childish.

Well, Cyril wouldn’t care. Mail with fancy house wax seals probably rarely came addressed to him, if ever. Besides! It was a wax _ seal _ , not a declaration of nobility. If it prevented anyone who wasn’t Cyril from opening the letter, then it did its job. … She giggled to herself. She’d only gotten his letter today, and yet, here she was, dropping everything to respond to it as soon as she could. If Claude found out about this, he’d tease her for sure. She’d tell him a while after, then. Before… _ this _ took hold of her like a vice grip, but after a little while, so she’d be able to deal with feeling his sly glance over her shoulder every time she wrote a letter. Maybe she’d tell Hilda, or Raphael. Those two would be sympathetic, and would be able to give good advice. Ignatz, Leonie, and Marianne would support her, but she doubted they would be able to give much advice. Lorenz, most certainly would support her, after he got over their class difference, but he’d probably give her _ too _ much advice, and the unhelpful kind at that. Still, it was reassuring to think of it all like that. Just one big family of the Golden Deer. Though, now that she thought about it again, Leonie would be the type to threaten Cyril’s wellbeing should he wrong Lysithea in some way. _ Even with found family, I suppose you really can’t choose them _.

After the wax seal had hardened on the envelope, she aimlessly paced around, wondering what to do. Should she send the letter back immediately? Cyril might wonder what was wrong if she took too long, or worse, might interpret it as her not wanting to respond. If she sent it back right now, her servants might view her as a love-struck little girl, anxiously sending a letter back to her crush, which would go against the years and years she’d spent carefully crafting her public image into the leader of House Ordelia. What to do, what to do… this truly was a predicament. Her wolf ears flattened against her head, and she became more perplexed with which course of action to take. Hoping to find something, she walked a few empty rooms over to her calendar, something she’d recently been updating regularly on Byleth’s suggestion.

Let’s see here. There were no Leicester Alliance birthdays this month, and no important meetings to attend (Claude _ did _ have one planned for next month though, so she probably needed to start making preparations now), but there was a meeting written in bright ink… ah! Tea with Ignatz. She hadn’t forgotten the meet-up— in fact, it was often in the back of her mind in a “Is that today?” sort of way— but now that she remembered, it became far more important. After finding his footing in the Fódlan Woods and living with Raphael, he’d taken up the merchant lifestyle, something incredibly useful to the Alliance, but to her right now… a merchant who traveled a lot, traveling to Garreg Mach was normal. After all, the monastery had a booming marketplace, with merchants from areas from every reach of the woods gathering there to trade and sell wares. So, if she gave the letter…

She stood up, and quickly walked over the kitchen to see what blends she had, hoping to find some of the bespectacled man’s favorite: Lavender Blend. Of course, she didn’t really _ need _ to bribe him, but… well, Garreg Mach was a good distance away. This was one way to repay him for something that meant so much to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didn't a-support these two bc lysithea's endings with other characters were much more optimistic in the long-term but their supports made me cry like a little bitch.


	7. Blissfully Unaware

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caspar is getting a bit fed up with Linhardt eating all his dreams, especially ones that involve him. (Caspar/Linhardt)

_ Imperial Year 1185, Ethereal Moon _

  
  


Caspar let out a war cry as he charged forward, steel-clad fists at the ready. His feet launched off of the grass beneath, ready for battle. Before him stood an entire army of enemy monsters, varying in species and size. In the back of them all was an enormous orc that towered at nearly nine whole feet, but the young oni was hardly phased. His entire being lusted for the thrill of the fight, and a large opponent was just another body that would fall at his feet. His gauntlets slashed and stabbed at the wall of enemies in front of him, felling a tall werewolf as claws penetrated its chest, sinking into its heart. Caspar barely flinched as hot blood splattered onto his cheek and the creature let out a dying shriek. 

The man expertly dodged a swift blow to the shoulder from an oncoming golem and retaliated by prying the axe upon his back free of its restraints and bludgeoning it into the rock-solid body. Despite its great defense, it crumbled underneath Caspar’s unparalleled strength, until it was nothing but a heap of broken stones. 

The next opponent proved to be just as lackluster as the previous two. A kitsune approached him carrying an enormous sword. It blinked out of existence for but a moment, appearing behind the man and readying to slash. Fortunately, Caspar was already prepared for such a technique. His axe swept backwards and embedded itself within the creature’s side, earning a dying shriek as it crumpled to the floor, lifeless. 

Caspar smirked. As an oni, he possessed strength far greater than any other, and he  _ loved _ to show it off. His hot-blooded nature entangled him in numerous fights more often than not, but he relished in the feeling of a hard-fought battle, and  _ especially _ the honor of victory. Nothing got his heart pumping quite like this! Beads of sweat from his effort trickled down his forehead, rolling off his two protruded horns, but he was not done yet. The huge orc still lingered over him, snarling and baring its ugly, crooked teeth. This was a challenge he would not let slip through his fingers. The oni raised his steel claws and beckoned the enormous creature forward.

“C’mon!” he taunted. “Show me what you’ve got!”

The orc took a step towards Caspar, shaking the ground underneath its weight as it did so. A loud roar eminanted from its mouth, fists raised as it too took a fighting stance. This was to be a battle of legends…!

“LET’S GO!” Caspar bellowed. “TAKE THIIIISS….!!!”

As the man charged forward, the world suddenly grew hazy. It flickered back and forth, until a dark mist surrounded the forest. The orc before him was fading away into nothingness. Caspar’s entire body felt heavy, and he collapsed on the floor as his vision turned completely black…

* * *

“Linhardt! You ate my dream  _ again! _ ”

The rather angry oni’s shouts reverberated through the cabin’s walls, though they failed to do much impact on the other man who was currently slouched over in an expensive, comfortable chair. Linhardt’s tiger tail flickered back and forth as he yawned lazily, covering his mouth as he did so. Hazy eyes blinked at Caspar. “And?” he questioned, sounding not the slightest bit interested in his enraged friend.

“I told you to stop doing that!” Caspar yelled, stomping his foot upon the wooden floor of their shared abode. He crossed his arms over his chest and huffed. The two of them had been friends since childhood, but their personalities had developed in extraordinarily different directions. While Caspar was always seeking a challenging opponent to fight, Linhardt was simply… lazy. He had no interest in battle in the slightest and spent most of his days drawn to ancient texts detailing the history of the Fódlan Woods, alongside the mysterious objects known as Crest Stones. Their interests were completely opposites, but yet, the two of them still had chosen to room together.

There was some convergence in their plans. Caspar had wanted to go off on his own to fight powerful enemies deep in Adrestian territory, where larger monsters dwelled. Linhardt had wanted to leave the bustle of nobility life and all his responsibilities, so the two of them decided to leave together and share a cabin. Since the two of them were both nobility, they were able to afford a rather luxurious house, with walls made of only the highest quality of wood and furniture that was soft and plush. Such gave Linhardt a good excuse to spend most of his time within the confines of their shared home, though occasionally he would drift outside to let the sounds of the birds lull him to sleep. Unfortunately, there was a slight issue that arose given his unwillingness to travel far. 

Linhardt was a baku, a creature that fed off of the dreams of others. In his human form which he almost  _ always _ wore, he possessed a tiger’s legs and tail but little else to indicate his species. Given that the only other person around was Caspar, his meal options were severely limited. 

The baku in question scratched his chin. “Indeed, your dream was  _ quite _ bitter,” he remarked dryly. “Fighting a horde of enemies, face to face with a giant orc… it’s very typical. I have to admit, I’m getting rather tired of the flavor.”

“Then… then find someone else! You  _ never _ leave our cabin!” Caspar argued back. 

“I have no need to. I’ve brought my entire library here,” Linhardt replied casually. “I suppose I could go out for further research if you were ever to encounter those rumored beasts, but you’ve yet to lay your eye on such an opponent.”

A long time ago, back when the monsters were forced into realm of the Fódlan Woods, it had been chock full of demonic beasts. They possessed brute strength at the cost of their minds, which had long ago deteriorated. How such creatures came to be was still a mystery, but most had been slain. A sudden resurgence in their existence led some to suspect the Crest Stones might be involved, which was a matter of great interest to Linhardt. It was Caspar’s goal to witness such a beast for himself and slay it with his own two hands. However, even after a whole moon had passed by, his searches had turned up dry. Sure, there were some strong opponents in a nearby village to spar with, but all and all, he had yet to find what he was truly looking for. 

Caspar groaned and slumped backwards into his bed, recounting the dream that had been so rudely interrupted before he could get to the good part. He massaged his temples, skating around the two small horns that stuck out. He did not possess too many features that would give away his species, his horns being the exception. Onis were creatures of beastialstrength who were experts at wielding axes and gauntlets. Caspar’s father was the leader of military affairs in the Adrestian Empire, and he had made quite a reputation for himself as a capable soldier. He had led the entire army into battle against an onslaught of  ferocious Brigid warriors and came out victorious, with the head of their own leader chopped firmly off by his glistening axe in tow. The entire Empire had celebrated his accomplishments, but most of his father’s work left an ill taste in Caspar’s mouth. He wished to be a fighter in his own right, and not one that trudged in his father’s shadow. As the second brother, he had absolutely no inheritance to speak of, so whatever he wanted had to be earned through hard work. His confidence never wavered in spite of the circumstances, and to prove himself, he had set himself out on this quest. 

If only he could battle a giant orc for real, or better yet, a demonic beast.

“Hey, Linhardt,” Caspar spoke out once he felt his frustrations had been quelled. 

“Mm… yes?” came a reply from the half sleeping man.

“Can you tell me how the dream ended, at least?”

Linhardt looked disinterested in the matter, but he still attempted to recall it for the sake of his friend. “Let’s see… you fought the orc one on one. He was no match for your strength, of course... You threw your axe directly into his head and killed him.”

Caspar nodded. At least Linhardt was always willing to fill in the gaps of his memory. He collapsed backwards as he thought about how cool that would have been to experience for himself. Stupid Linhardt didn’t even appreciate his dreams, nor did he like the taste. If he really cared that much, then he should find someone else and not deprive his friend of his fantasies. A whole moon, they had been living together, and not one dream he got to enjoy!

Wait. He paused for a moment, eyes growing wide. Was Linhardt eating his dreams  _ every _ night? A lump in his throat as hard as stone began to form as he recalled some of his more… private dreams. In truth, not every night was spent in reveries about the thrill of battle. Every so often, a certain baku would creep into his thoughts in… embarrassing ways. Caspar coughed as his mind focused on a particular dream, where they had been both laying in the grass, peering at the sun through sky-high trees. Warm sun had soaked through and left the two of them cheery. The memories of what exactly the two of them had been talking about had been josseled, but Caspar could certainly remember how it proceeded. They ended up cuddled up against one another, arms around each other, lips dangerously close… Caspar’s heart had beat unsteadily in his chest as their lips had met one another. Though there were few sensations in the dream world, the oni could remember the lingering warmth upon his lips when he awoke. What else had happened in the dream, after that? They had kissed, and then… then they had… uh… for the love of the Goddess, Caspar absolutely could not remember. Realization washed through him as his heart nearly stopped. 

“SHIT!” he shouted out of the blue, causing Linhardt’s eyes to snap open. He threw his body upwards as his cheeks turned a deep crimson.

“If you’re going to disturb my nap by shouting out swears, you’d best be telling me what they’re for,” complained Linhardt.

Caspar wasn’t even sure how to go about asking him, considering he was as red as a rose right now. “How often do you need to eat, Linhardt!? Don’t tell me you’ve been eating my dreams  _ every _ night!”

“I have,” the baku answered simply. 

Oh, Caspar was definitely in some deep trouble now. “Every single one of them!?” Caspar repeated, nearly choking on his words.

“Yes. That’s what I said.”

“Damnit, Linhardt!” cursed the oni. If he could taste and absorb the contents of what Caspar dreamt of, then what of the  _ stranger _ dreams like that one that crept into his mind upon occasion? “Okay, if you saw anything  _ weird,  _ that meant nothing, okay!? It’s just a dream!”

Linhardt looked bored. “I have no idea what you mean,” he answered coolly. 

“Don’t lie to me! I know you know what I’m talking about, and I’m telling you that they’re just dreams! I can’t control what I dream about, okay? Sometimes, thoughts just, you know, creep up! But they really don’t mean ANYTHING!” protested Caspar, unable to stop the waterfall of words from tumbling out of his mouth. “We’re the best of friends, who just happen to live together! Just like Petra and Dorothea, you know! They’re off living together in the woods, being friends and all that.”

The baku gave him a tired look. “I hardly think that’s the best example, if you’re talking about friendship,” he replied. 

Well, yeah, now that he thought about it, Petra and Dorothea were  _ awfully _ close… Petra was always bringing Dorothea gifts from her hunting trips and all that, but… Caspar bit his lip, feeling as though he had just backed himself into a corner. “Whatever! This isn’t about that, okay? If I have weird dreams, then it’s just… weird stuff! Don’t think anything of it, and for the Goddess’s sake, ** _ stop eating my dreams!”_ **

Linhardt stared at his friend, who was currently trembling with a massive blush upon his face. He tilted his head sidewards and pondered his words. “I’ll find an alternative, if you really want me to. But it is such a pain,” he grumbled. “I don’t see why you have a problem with it, if it’s really just a baseless dream like you claim it is.”

The oni opened his mouth to retort, but immediately closed it when he found he had no reply. For some reason, Linhardt  _ always _ won these little arguments, and it was absolutely infuriating! He always knew just what to say to back Caspar into a corner and then deliver the final blow ruthlessly, most of the time sounding bored as he did so. “Just… just…” he stammered out, unable to come up with any proper response. “Just… forget it, okay!” he demanded. “I’m going to get some fresh air!”

With that, Caspar turned on his heel and exited the cabin, desperate for a break from his witty friend. Linhardt, on the other hand, just sighed and shook his head, sinking back into the chair.

“At this rate, I’ll fall into an eternal slumber before he admits his feelings,” he spoke out loud. “But confessing my own is too much effort. I suppose I can wait just… a bit longer… mm…” 

With yet another yawn, the baku drifted back into his own dreams, not unlike the ones he had eaten from Caspar previously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my name is kuzuriolu and ive brought more gay shit for you! except this time its some m/m which i dont get to write a lot of, so i hope you enjoy this. its a bit shorter than my other chapters but i had a pretty firm idea of what i wanted from this, which wasn't exactly meant to be a huge novel. 
> 
> thanks for reading! leave a kudo and a comment if you liked this, really goes a long way to help me out.


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